I will not bow
by Schattengestalt
Summary: After a terrible date, John believes that the evening can't get any worse. He is wrong. Johnlock.
1. It can always get worse

**Author Notes:** This story will have two chapters and I hope that I will be able to post the second on in the next couple of weeks. Let me know how you like this chapter. :)

 **Appreciation:** A huge thank you goes to my wonderful beta-reader, **Tstui1gos.** She did a fantastic work with this chapter.

 **Trigger Warning:** This chapter contains transphobia and transphobic language. If this triggers you, don't read on.

 **It can always get worse**

John opened the front door of 221 as quietly as possible and stepped inside. He threw an anxious glance at the door of 221A but Mrs. Hudson didn't make an appearance and John heaved a sigh of relief. Quietly, he hurried up the stairs to Sherlock's and his flat before Mrs. Hudson could get alerted to his presence. He loved their landlady like a mother - more than he had ever loved his own mother everything considered - but he wouldn't be able to handle her worried questions tonight. And she would have been worried if she had laid eyes on John. It didn't need a genius to figure out that something had gone horrible wrong. John's hair was a mess, his shirt was buttoned askew, his belt was absent and his expression resembled that of someone who had been kneed in his guts several times. At least that's how John felt as he made his way up the stairs.

Maybe he was lucky and Sherlock was in bed already or so immersed in an experiment that he didn't notice John's arrival or at least didn't pay him any attention. John could do without having his terrible evening deduced before he had even had the chance to calm his nerves with a decent cup of tea... or better yet a bottle of whisky. Something to wash away the feeling of utter wrongness that was clawing at his insides since his disastrous date with Jane.

 _"Do you want to come up for a coffee?" John chuckled at Jane's question as she winked at him and nodded in agreement._

 _They had gone out four times by now and although John couldn't imagine a serious relationship with Jane - she was too superficial for his tastes - he wouldn't deny himself a night of sweaty, glorious sex when it was offered to him. His last time with anyone had been ages ago and his last time with a woman... John believed it had taken place a couple of weeks before Sherlock's faked suicide. So it had been about four years since he had been with a woman and over a year since he had been with a man. John frowned slightly at this discovery as he followed Jane up the stairs to her flat. He couldn't recall a time when he had gone for so long without sex before by choice. His time in Afghanistan had been a different matter altogether and back then his forced abstinence had bothered him. This time around though he had barely given a thought to his lack of sex._

 _John sighed inwardly while he waited for Jane to find the keys in her handbag. He could excuse his decreasing interest in sex with his age or... he could be honest with himself and admit that he didn't need it when he was with Sherlock. Alright sex was still great - most of the time - but it couldn't hold a candle to chasing after criminals at the side of his best friend. Especially not when John found himself deeply in love with said best friend. The worst decision his heart could have ever made considering that Sherlock didn't return his feelings. Still what he already had was enough. John loved the life he led now and he even caught himself imagining Sherlock and himself as old men in the countryside sometimes. He was more than happy to stay with his best friend forever._

 _Nevertheless, after one too many cutting remarks from Sherlock about John's non-existent private life John had gladly chatted Jane up at the next pub. It was pure defiance John admitted guiltily to himself when Jane finally managed to open the door and winked at him over her shoulder. Still it couldn't hurt to enjoy a night with a beautiful woman and deal with his feelings tomorrow, right? Squaring his shoulders John followed Jane into the flat and closed the door behind him._

 _OOO_

 _"Take this off! I need to see you! Please!"_

 _John grinned down at Jane who was completely naked before his appreciating gaze and complied. He couldn't remember the last time someone had been so eager to get his clothes off. Someone who..._ knew. _Not that his former lovers - especially his long-term boy-or girlfriends - hadn't wanted to see him naked. Nevertheless he couldn't remember them clawing at his clothes until he finally got them off._

 _John threw his belt away and sat up to strip his trousers and pants off before he crawled back to Jane. Her eyes were roaming over his body and John felt arousal pool low between his legs when she licked her lips in obvious hunger._

 _"You're so perfect," she whispered hoarsely and John groaned when she traced one finger from his chest to his crotch and stroked between his curls._

 _"And you," John groaned in delighted surprise. It was rare that a new lover didn't need some time to get used to the idea that a man didn't necessarily have a penis - even though John always told them before things got serious. Jane's enthusiasm was a welcome surprise. More than welcome John mused when she circled his hole with her fingers._

 _"It's been so long," she murmured and John was just about to reassure her that this was fine when she continued. "So long since I have been with a woman. My family is against it but with you... they wouldn't notice and it would be perfect. It's a shame about your breasts_

 _but..."_

 _"I'm a man," John rasped out as he grasped her wrist and shoved her away from him. "I'm not a woman. I told you..."_

 _"That you live as a man, yes." Jane rolled her eyes at him and reached for John again who tumbled of the bed in his haste to get away from her. "I don't mind that. If everyone thinks you are a man it makes it much easier for us. Only we have to know the truth."_

 _"The truth," John pressed out through clenched teeth as he scrambled around for his clothes and put them back on as fast as possible. "The truth is that I'm a man. I don't pretend to be a man. I'm a man and it doesn't make me less of a man that I don't have a penis."_

 _"Yes, it does." John didn't look at Jane as he grabbed his wallet and keys from the nightstand, lest he slap her. "You are a woman. Either admit it or get a surgery, you..."_

 _John didn't hear the rest of her angry tirade when he fled from the flat and hailed a cab back to Bakerstreet. He barely held himself together on the ride back home._

John took a shaking breath as Jane's words echoed through his mind before he could push the memory away. He had been faced with cruel jokes, rejection and incomprehension before but none of his dates had ever gone as wrong as today's date. Either the men and women had accepted that John was transgender or they had rejected him right away. None of them... none of them had insulted John while he was in bed with them. And that was what made Jane's parting words so much more cutting than the insults of other people. He had been naked and vulnerable before her eyes and she had reduced him to his genitals. As if he couldn't be a man, without a penis. As if his whole life -all his accomplishments - didn't matter because he... _missed_ something. And actually he didn't... No, John didn't miss a penis per se. He had never felt the need to get his genitals readjusted otherwise he would have found himself a specialist years ago. Still it was hard to dismiss Jane's words so easily. Of course John knew that she was wrong but the knowledge didn't help with the sick feeling in his stomach or the way his skin crawled whenever he recalled her words.

 _Get a grip, Watson,_ John told himself sternly when he noticed the tremor in his left hand as he reached for the door handle. He didn't want Sherlock to deduce how much Jane's cruelty had affected him because... John already hated himself for his weakness and he didn't want his friend to see it and think less of him for it. Squaring his shoulders John entered the flat and sighed in resignation when he found his brilliant flatmate sprawled on the couch. Too much to ask for a chance to get to his room without being deduced, John thought bitterly when he noticed how Sherlock's analyzing gaze swept over him.

"Your date didn't go well." John snorted at the understatement of the century but merely shrugged in reply. Maybe Sherlock would take a hint and leave him alone. John glanced at his friend who's eyes sparkled with interest and buried this hope before it could even take root.

"You went home with her. You even got undressed indicating that you hoped to have sex with her but something went wrong." Sherlock sat up on the couch and narrowed his eyes at John. "You were in a hurry to get away from her. You even forget your belt so what..."

"Sherlock, leave it!" John glared at his friend on his way to the stairs. He didn't want to review every part of his disastrous evening. He only wanted to be left alone to lick his wounds. Nevertheless it was to his great surprise when Sherlock laid back down with an annoyed huff and stopped his deductions. John could barely believe his luck... until Sherlock deemed it necessary to open his mouth again. "If I'm not allowed some reprieve from my boredom you can at least make tea."

John stopped with his left foot on the first step of the stairs and frowned at his friend. "Excuse me, why should I make you tea? You are perfectly capable of making tea yourself... although I have never seen you actually preparing tea."

"That's because it's your duty," Sherlock drawled and lay back on the couch. "Just like doing the shopping and cleaning the flat. I could do it but since you are here..."

"Don't treat me like a housewife!" John watched with grim satisfaction as Sherlock almost fell from the couch at his enraged shout. For years, he had believed that Sherlock didn't care that John was transgender because he had never once mentioned it. He had allowed himself the illusion that Sherlock accepted him the way he was and appreciated his help as a doctor, soldier and friend but... obviously he had been wrong. Obviously, Sherlock didn't accept him as a man if he reduced John to a housewife in his mind.

John didn't take a second to notice the flaws in his logic as he turned around and all but shouted at his stunned best friend. "I can't help it if you are a prejudiced prick and think that women should do all the household chores but for the record: I. Am. Not. A. Woman!"

With that John stormed to his room and ignored Sherlock's bewildered protests as he

slammed the door shut and locked it - just to be safe - before he collapsed face down on his bed and hide his face in the pillow as angry tears ran down his cheeks.

OOO

"John!" Sherlock spoke in the direction of the staircase after the click of the lock sounded through the flat. Desperation and confusion colored the name of his friend but Sherlock didn't bother to mask either sentiment. It wasn't as if John heard him and besides Sherlock was completely at his wits' end. His friend's reaction had been utterly unexpected and - as far as Sherlock was concerned - lacked any logic whatsoever. Usually he could predict which actions and insults would make John angry but this time Sherlock hadn't tried to rile his friend up. Quite the contrary he had kept his deductions to himself in an effort to respect John's wishes. Maybe it hadn't been his most clever move to ask John to prepare them tea but really... Sherlock had only wanted his friend to sit down with him for a bit and relax. Granted the gesture would have gone over better if Sherlock had prepared the tea for them himself but... he never made tea. Usually that wasn't too big a problem for John but... this evening it had been different.

Sherlock sighed and steepled his fingers under his chin as he lay back on the couch and stared at the ceiling. He hated it when he couldn't figure out his best friend. Most of the time it was fun how unpredictable John was as long as Sherlock could see at least some kind of logic behind his actions but this time...

A muffled sound echoed from upstairs and Sherlock had to force himself to stay put on the couch instead of going up to check on his friend. He knew these kind of sounds. Distressed cries and screams that sounded from John's room whenever his friend had woken up from one of his more violent nightmares. This time though John's distress wasn't caused by his subconscious but by the events of this very evening and Sherlock feared that he was partly to blame for John's state of mind. And that after Sherlock had sworn to himself that he would never cause his best friend any pain again. Not after the grief he had put John through when he had faked his own suicide. He had even been prepared to step aside for any lover John might choose to spend his life with but as his friend seemed more than content to stay with him...

Sherlock shook his head to chase the hope away that arose at the notion that he might be enough for his friend. John had never made a move that indicated that he felt a deeper connection than friendship to Sherlock. Besides his latest date proved that John wasn't completely content with living with Sherlock - he definitely missed the sex - and that... led Sherlock back to the original problem.

 _Concentrate on the facts,_ Sherlock told himself as he wrestled with the sentiment that threatened to cloud his mind. _What do you know about John's evening?_ He had had a date with a woman - fourth date but nothing really serious on his part. The date had gone well until they had gone to her place - sex was on the menu but something had gone wrong.

Sherlock pinched his nose with his fingers as he tried to figure out what had put John to flight. Not the woman's looks - John wouldn't react like this even if she had hidden some horrible secret under her clothes. No, that wasn't it. So maybe... _When does John feel the need to get away from someone,_ the annoying voice of his brother echoed through Sherlock's mind.

"When he is angry or hurt and fears that his temper will get the better of him if he doesn't get away." The words were unbearable loud in the otherwise quiet flat but they made sense. So, the woman had hurt John - verbally since there was no proof of physical injuries - and John had become upset by whatever she had said to him. But what could a stupid, boring woman say to John that hit him so hard?

 _"I. Am. Not. A. Woman!"_

The words flew through Sherlock's Mind Palace and he frowned slightly at how important they seemed although they merely stated the obvious. John wasn't a woman. Obviously, but... his date had been a closeted lesbian - Sherlock had deduced that when he had followed his friend to their first date. So, had she wanted to play a role game and had wanted John to act like a woman? The idea felt close to the truth but not completely right just yet.

" _Maybe you should ask yourself why a woman with such preferences would even date the dear Doctor?"_

Sherlock growled at the manifestation of his brother in his mind but followed his advice. This woman knew that she was homosexual but she was too afraid to disappoint her family to date another woman. From what Sherlock had gathered she also didn't have sex with men, she only dated them to avoid raising suspicions. So, why would she even take John home with her? Had she wanted to give it a try with a man? No, Sherlock shook his head at the idea. If that had been the case and she had freaked out during the act John wouldn't have taken it personally. He would have stayed to comfort her and probably told her stories about his sister.

Sherlock furrowed his brow. This whole incident made less sense the more he thought about it. John coming home upset and accusing Sherlock of treating him like a woman and insisting that he wasn't one after a lesbian had wanted to have sex with him and hurt his feeling in the process... Oh!

Sherlock sat up with a gasp as the pieces of the puzzle finally fell into place. _"Took you long enough, nearly five years,"_ his brother's voice mocked him but Sherlock shut him out as he searched his Mind Palace for additional evidence to support his theory. It was easy to find once he knew what to look for. Tiny snippets of his life with John which added up to a much greater picture and explained the behavior of his friend this evening.

 _"How could you not see it sooner?"_ Mycroft laughed from behind his desk in his Mind Palace and Sherlock just shrugged in reply.

"It didn't matter to me... it still doesn't," he spoke to the empty room and then got up from the couch to convince John of this sentiment.

OOO

Someone was in his room. John's eyes snapped open as all his senses came awake at once. He tried to keep his breathing even to lure the intruder into a false sense of security.

"I know that you are awake, John. It's rather obvious from the change in your breathing pattern... to me at least."

"Sherlock," John groaned, annoyed that his sleep had been interrupted once more by the crazy genius. He was just about to relax back into the pillows and demand that Sherlock leave at once when the memories of the last evening came back to him in a rush and his whole body stiffened in response.

Anger, hurt and embarrassment fought a battle in his mind as Sherlock crossed over to his window and drew the curtains aside before he sat down on the edge of John's bed. Part of the anger vanished when Sherlock stayed quiet instead of needling John to speak. Hurt and embarrassment remained in equal parts as John recalled exactly how the last evening had gone. Hurt at Jane's words and Sherlock's behavior towards him and embarrassment for overreacting when Sherlock hadn't treated him any differently than he normally did. But that was the whole point, John mused to himself. Sherlock had always expected John to do all the household chores. Not that it had bothered him before - not more than it would bother anyone else to scrub the remains of an exploded liver from the floor. Now though he couldn't help but wonder if Sherlock had treated him the same way if...

"Before you jump to any silly conclusions it would be better to talk to me." Sherlock's voice broke the silence and John sighed in annoyance. "Because you are the only one who comes to the right conclusions?!" Ah, the anger was back - partly at least. That was good. John could deal better with anger than with any of the other emotions that flooded his mind.

"No." Sherlock had the nerve to remain completely calm as he met John's eyes in the twilight of the room - brightened only by the light of a streetlamp. "But you are biased and you will come to the wrong conclusions like you did before."

"And which - pray tell, genius - conclusions were so wrong that you broke into my room in the middle of the night just to convince me of your superiority?"

Sherlock visibly flinched at John's angry tone but he stayed where he was and his voice was as calm and businesslike as ever when he spoke. "You accused me of treating you like a woman. That's not true. For one thing I don't treat women very differently from men... at least not in the sense you meant. I don't think that women have to keep house and look after the children or some other nonsense that you were referring to."

"And what about Molly?" John sat up against the headboard and glared at Sherlock. "You flirt with her and then you expect her to do as you say without questioning you." _And that's also exactly how you treat me,_ John thought but didn't add aloud. His skin crawled at the newest proof of how Sherlock obviously thought of him.

"I flirt with witnesses of both gender if I think it gets the desired results. And when did I ever tell anyone why they need to do something for me?"

The last question tore a laughter from John's lips. "You tell me... sometimes."

Even in the semi-darkness of the room John noticed how Sherlock's features softened as his friend nodded at him. "Yes because you are my friend... my best friend. That's why... our friendship isn't a game to me and I... I apologize if you feel like I didn't appreciate your efforts to keep the flat habitable. We can pay someone to clean if you think..."

"Now hold on." John blinked in surprise when Sherlock actually clapped his mouth shut at his order. Usually it was impossible to interrupt Sherlock mid-sentence but if he was willing to listen to John just for once he wouldn't complain.

John ran shaking fingers through his hair as he put his thoughts into words. "I understand what you are trying to tell me but," John bit down on his lip and glanced at the covers. "It's not exactly about household chores. I'm not sure how you see me anymore." John didn't dare to meet Sherlock's gaze as he waited for an answer with bated breath. If anything his friend was brutally honest and John didn't know if he could handle that tonight. Not after Jane's insults and the quicksand of emotions he had waded through in the last few hours. If Sherlock was to tell him that he had only humored John all this time but had never accepted him as a man then... John didn't know what he would do. Lashing out in anger probably... before crumbling to pieces in his bed.

The insight brought a bitter smile to his lips. He had broken ties with his family when he had been old enough to move out and he had fought since then to become the man he was now. He had lost friends when he had come out as transgender. He had fought with his health insurance to cover his top surgery. He had been to three endocrinologists until he had finally found one who didn't condemn him for who he was. Endless nights spent crying himself to sleep when it had all become too much. And then... the army. A place where John had been - in defiance of what most people had told him - completely accepted for the first time in his life. Of course not all the men had known that John was transgender but his commanders had known - it was in his files after all - and they had treated him like all the other men. No discussions about separating him from his comrades or any other nonsense. The army had even paid for John's hormones. Everything had been perfect for once in his life and then... a bullet had ripped his happiness to pieces. He had been alone once more but this time with the added bitterness of feeling useless. Until Sherlock had come into his life. The most brilliant man John had ever met. He had deduced John's whole life and yet he hadn't mentioned John's gender identity once. It had been too great to believe at first. Someone who didn't ask questions but just accepted him and treated him like the man he was. It would be a cruel twist of fate if the man who had given John a new purpose in life would also be the one to break him. When he had endured everything else that life had thrown his way. Nevertheless John couldn't imagine how he would survive such a blow. He wasn't sure if he wanted to survive it.

"You are," Sherlock spoke slowly and John grabbed two fistfuls of the covers to conceal the shaking of his hands. "My blogger and colleague, my doctor and first and foremost my friend. The bravest, wisest and most patient man I have ever had the fortune to meet."

John's head jerked up at the last part but there was no mockery in Sherlock's eyes as he met John's searching ones. The blue-grey eyes of his friend were as open as John had ever seen them and they didn't show anything besides honesty and a deep understanding. John took a deep breath and forced his racing heart to slow down. He allowed himself to believe that Sherlock had always seen him as who he was. With this realisation came regret and John ducked his head as heat flushed his cheeks. "I'm sorry for behaving like such a prick. I shouldn't have doubted you just because Jane..."

"Is a transphobic cow who doesn't understand that other people have to fight for the life they want to lead because she is too afraid to fight!"

John's mouth opened on reflex to defend his latest date - he had never allowed his mates to insult someone he had dated - but then closed it again with a snap when he admitted how spot on Sherlock's deductions were. Besides there was no actual reason why he should defend a woman who had insulted him like no other.

"So you deduced why I was... angry?" John prayed to a God he didn't believe in that Sherlock wouldn't point out that he had been far beyond angry. He didn't fancy reliving this part of the evening or to remember in too many details how he had overreacted when Sherlock had just been... Sherlock.

Either his friend had become a mind reader - which was within the realms of possibility - or he didn't deem John's display of feelings worth discussing - even more likely because Sherlock skipped directly to the heart of the matter. "After I pieced together that you are transgender it was fairly easy to..."

"Wait a second!" John held up his hand to go over his friend's words in his head. He couldn't have heard correctly, could he? There was no chance that Sherlock had only just now figured out that John was transgender, was there? "You mean to tell me that you didn't know..."

The faint blush that colored Sherlock's pale cheeks proved - against all odds - that John's suspicion was correct. Usually his friend didn't blush - not even when he was lying like a professional. The few times John had witnessed a faint color spreading over Sherlock's features John had either praised Sherlock for an especially brilliant deduction or his friend had been forced to admit that he hadn't noticed an important detail. Like every other time John was mesmerized by the way the color highlighted Sherlock's cheekbones and made him appear even more otherworldly than usual. If only he were allowed to trace the lines of Sherlock's face with his fingers and chase his blush until... But no, he had to concentrate on more important matters than his own, silly fantasies. "How can it be that you didn't...?"

"Because it wasn't important," Sherlock snapped at him and if John hadn't been used to how defensive his friend got when he had gotten something wrong he would have taken offence at his tone. As it was he merely raised an inquiring eyebrow and waited. "I noticed everything important about you right away. You're loyal, a good shot and a great doctor. You have got a temper and you love to rush headlong into dangerous situations. Of course I learned more about you while we lived together but... I never saw the need to question the most obvious fact about you."

"Which is?" John prompted when Sherlock faltered in his little speech.

Their eyes met and a small smile ghosted around Sherlock's lips as he replied quietly. "You're a man. It's obvious so why should I look deeper into the matter of your gender identity?" Sherlock shook his head and continued while John couldn't do more than stare at his friend in astonishment. "There was no need for it and even though I know it now it's still... I don't see the importance of what was written on your birth certificate. Of course," Sherlock continued, before John could interrupt at this point. "It's of importance to you. I see now that it wasn't easy for you to become who you are but... You are John, now. And you are my friend... My best friend."

John gulped down humiliating tears that threatened to spill over at Sherlock's honest and heartfelt declaration. He couldn't remember anyone who had ever reacted quite like this at finding out that he was transgender. Even Mike who had never judged him had still needed some time to wrap his head around the whole concept. Somehow it probably shouldn't surprise John that Sherlock reacted like no one else ever had. He was Sherlock after all. Unique and brilliant. The man John had fallen in love with years ago and maybe there was a chance that his friend returned his feelings after all.

John ignored the part of his brain that cautioned him to take it slowly as he scrambled to his knees and leaned towards Sherlock. The press of lips on lips felt like the first drop of water after a day on patrol in Afghanistan. John savoured the feeling of Sherlock's plush lips against his own and a relieved sigh escaped him when Sherlock returned the kiss tentatively. John's eyes closed of their own accord as he brought one hand up to tangle in messy curls and slung the other one around Sherlock's waist as he deepened the kiss. At least it had been his intention to deepen it when Sherlock turned his head away and shook John's hands off him.

"What..." John started but the desperate look in Sherlock's eyes as he met his gaze stopped him.

"I can't, John," Sherlock whispered and dropped his gaze to the floor. "I just can't. I'm sorry."

The words felt like a bucket of cold water and left John shaking and with a lump in his throat, as he realised that Sherlock might not be as different from most people as John would have hoped.

OOO

That hadn't gone as planned. Sherlock resisted the urge to bring his hand up to his still tingling lips and touch his fingers to the place where John's lips had rested just seconds ago. It would look pathetic and Sherlock didn't want to look anything but calm and collected when he had The Conversation with John. His lips twisted into the bitter imitation of a smile as he recalled how often he had explained the very same topic to other people and how often he had been rejected afterwards. The numbers were identical although the rejection hadn't always happened right away. A few of his former... _romantic interests_ had given it a try with Sherlock after The Conversation. No matter that they hadn't lasted longer than a couple of weeks until they realised that they wouldn't be able to change him and that he would never return their interest in kind. Of course they had blamed him for the failing of the relationship. No need to mention that it had been impossible to stay friends afterwards especially when they had implied that Sherlock should see a therapist.

A wary sigh escaped Sherlock's lips as he glanced sideward at John who looked like someone had just punched him in the stomach. Understandable after Sherlock had ended their kiss like this but he hadn't seen any other way that wouldn't have made the situation worse. Kissing was fine as far as Sherlock was concerned but even Anderson could have deduced that John didn't want to stop at kissing. No, his intentions had been clear and as much as Sherlock loved his friend and wanted to please him there were certain things he just couldn't do. And they needed to talk about it before _this_ \- whatever it was between them - progressed any further.

"Are you going to tell me that it isn't my fault?" Sherlock's head snapped up at John's bitter and angry tone. "That you really like me and that you could have imagined something between us yesterday. But now that you have figured out that I'm transgender, it's out of the question."

"John," Sherlock tried to get a sentence in between his friend's angry rant but John ignored the interruption. "You have probably deduced how my body looks. Does the thought put you off? Are you only interested in men with a cock? Is that why you can't stand the idea of kissing me?"

Blue eyes bore into his own and Sherlock glanced away at the wall above John's head as he tried to come up with a satisfying answer in the face of his friend's irrational anger. No doubt that some of John's dates had reacted like this when they had learned about his friend but Sherlock still thought it unfair that John directed all his anger at him. His last date certainly had something to do with John's terrible temper tonight. Nevertheless Sherlock didn't see why he should endure this kind of verbal abuse when he hadn't done anything wrong.

"Even if I was there would be nothing wrong with it," Sherlock pointed out and then hurried on before his friend got a chance to continue his rant. "Sexuality is fluent and everyone has preferences when it comes to their partners. As long as they aren't arses about it and treat others with respect, it's rather unfair to judge them for it."

"Of course, but it's not unfair to judge me for my gender identity?!"

Sherlock sighed, suddenly tired. Maybe it would have been wiser to wait until the next morning to talk with John. At least then his friend's temper would have cooled down and he wouldn't have been so affected by his date's insults anymore.

 _"But he might not have kissed you in bright daylight,"_ Mycroft gleefully pointed out to him and Sherlock had to give him that point. He was thrilled that John had kissed him and that his feelings for his best friend were obviously returned but... he dreaded the essential conversation. _"And that's why you procrastinate. Just get it over with, brother dear."_ Again - to Sherlock's chagrin - Mycroft was right. If he beat around the bush any longer then John would work himself up even more and Sherlock would lose whatever chance he had with his friend.

"No it's not fair to judge you for your gender identity," Sherlock started and then faltered before he decided to jump into the deep end head first. "I told you that it doesn't matter to me that you are transgender and it doesn't. I..."

"I hear a _but_ in this," John mocked bitterly and Sherlock ground his teeth in an effort not to yell at his friend to shut the hell up and listen to him. It was hard enough as it was without having to watch his every word.

"I want to be with you as partners - or boyfriends whatever term you prefer - and I enjoy kissing you but... I'm asexual," Sherlock rushed the words past his lips before he could think better of it and huffed a sigh of relief that it was finally out. Now it was up to John where they went from here.

"Right... asexual."

Sherlock's heart sank at the mocking tone and the snort that accompanied John's dismissive words. He had known why he had never acted on his feelings for his friend. For fear that John would reject him like everyone else had done. And the reality of it hurt more than Sherlock had ever imagined possible. The air burned in his throat as he took a shaking breath and prepared himself for what else John would throw at him.

"That's a great excuse not to have sex with me. I must admit I haven't heard this one yet. Did you just come up with it?"

Sherlock clenched his hands in the fabric of his trousers as the words cut into him like knives. Part of him was aware that John wasn't thinking rationally and that he was lashing out in an effort to protect himself but that didn't lessen the pain of his accusations.

"No, I'm asexual and I have never been anything else," Sherlock pressed out even as he felt that any more explanations were wasted. "I stopped our kiss because I didn't want the situation to get out of hand. I wanted to talk with you and make sure that we are on the same page."

"Right," John's bitter laughter cut deeper than the whip of the torturer in Serbia. "So that you can be with me but without being forced to see me naked."

Sherlock closed his eyes for a second to gather his strength and got up from the bed. His gaze met John's for the first time since they had started this conversation and he allowed his hurt and disappointment to bleed through. "This conversation wasn't about you, John. It was about me: my preferences and feelings. I would have hoped that it had gone differently."

John opened his mouth probably to attack him again but Sherlock was out of the door before a single word could come past his lips. He hurried down the stairs and through the living-room. He only paused for his coat and wallet on his way out and then fled the flat. Sherlock didn't know where he was going as he stumbled down the street. He was only aware of the burning pain in his chest and that he needed something - anything - to numb the pain that tore at his heart.


	2. Morning Light

**Author Notes** : Here is the final chapter of this story. I hope you will enjoy it.

 **Appreciation:** Thanks to my fantastic beta-reader, **Tstui1gos** for working her magic on this chapter. :)

 **Trigger Warning:** Mentions of internalized acephobia.

 **Morning Light**

"Fuck!"

John punched the wall and barely registered the pain at the impact. He had fucked up and fucked up royally at that. How could he ever look into Sherlock's eyes again after what he had said to him? When he knew that he had been the cause of the pain that he had seen in Sherlock's eyes.

"You are a fucking arsehole, Watson," he cursed into the empty room and sank back down on his bed, miserable and angry with himself. It had taken him some time to calm down and realise how badly things had gone. He had mocked his best friend's sexuality after it had been obvious how hard it had been for Sherlock to come out to him. Admittedly, Sherlock's struggle had only become apparent to John in retrospect but that was no excuse. And neither did his terrible date give him the right to throw such cruel insults at his friend.

"Christ," John cursed quietly and hid his face in his hands. He should have been happy that Sherlock hadn't rejected him right away - he had returned the kiss after all. Instead John had lashed out at his friend in the worst possible way... for trying to share an important part of himself with John. He had done all that although John knew firsthand how it felt to be told that an essential part of himself was _wrong._ He hadn't been any better than every transphobic idiot that had ever crossed his path.

John let out a bitter laugh at that realisation. It echoed hollowly through the room. He had betrayed Sherlock's trust in him in one of the worst possible ways and only because... he had been insecure and afraid. Afraid that his gender identity and his body would come between him and the man he loved. Insecure because Jane's words had still echoed through his mind at that time. But damn it all, he should still have known better. No matter his state of mind, John should have seen that Sherlock had been serious when he had talked about his sexuality. He always prided himself on being able to read his friend like no other and yet John had failed him. And this after he had already suspected that Sherlock wasn't interested in sex. It shouldn't have come as a surprise to John. Any other day he wouldn't have taken it so badly but tonight...

John shook his head. His mind was going around in circles and it didn't lead him anywhere if he blamed himself for the same mistakes over and over again. There was only one course of actions he could take to try to clean up this whole mess.

John took a deep breath and got to his feet just as the door downstairs opened and steps sounded on the stairs a second later. He frowned as he recognized Sherlock's gait - he hadn't realised that his friend had gone out - and hurried to the living-room.

John smelled it as soon as he stepped into the living-room: Smoke. Fresh cigarette smoke that clung to his friend like a flashing warning sign. John swallowed hard as he switched on the light while various scenarios flashed through his mind. The most likely one was that Sherlock had got high and smoked a whole packet of cigarettes afterwards. John hated the mere idea that his friend might have relapsed and that it was all John's fault. He had hurt his friend so much that Sherlock had felt the need to...

"I didn't use," Sherlock's voice interrupted John's train of thoughts and he forced himself to look up and meet the tired gaze of his friend. Indeed his pupils seemed to react normally to the light. At least, as far as John could tell from where he stood. His brief scrutiny didn't go unnoticed and Sherlock's eyes narrowed. "I was tempted but I opted against it and for a smoke, instead."

"It rather smells like you had more than one smoke," John shot back, before he snapped his mouth shut. No matter how natural it seemed to argue with Sherlock about his smoking habits, he didn't have a right to criticize his friend. If John hadn't behaved like a total prick Sherlock wouldn't have felt the need to smoke. Besides John hadn't left his room to give a speech about the ill effects of smoking. He squared his shoulders. "I must apologize."

Sherlock's expression didn't betray his feelings as he moved to sit in his armchair and regarded him coldly. "For believing that I had relapsed or for criticizing my drug - my _legal_ drug - of choice? There is no need to apologize for the former. I wasn't certain that I wouldn't use until I held a packet of cigarettes in my hands."

John clenched his hands at his side. Of course, Sherlock wouldn't make it easy for him. Why should he after everything that John had thrown at his friend? John should be glad that Sherlock was still willing to talk to him at all. Hell, he should probably thank some non-existent deity that Sherlock had come back to their flat instead of vanishing in the labyrinth of London's streets.

"I'm apologizing for how I treated you when you came out to me as asexual. My reaction was uncalled for." This only got him an upwards twitch of plump lips as they curled into a bitter smile. "Yes, I agree. Your ridicule of my sexuality was more than uncalled for although I have survived worse reactions."

Anyone else would have bought Sherlock's cold and indifferent behavior but John picked up on the stiff set of his friend's shoulders and the edge of resignation in his voice. He swallowed hard as it hit him that this was his fault. That he had reduced Sherlock to this state and that it was up to him to fix the damage he had done... if it was still possible.

"I will make tea," he announced and was met with a bitter laugh, as he hurried into the kitchen.

"Tea, is this your answer to everything, John? Did you also make tea when..." The sentence ended abruptly and John glanced through the doorway of the kitchen to see that Sherlock had clapped a hand over his mouth. It would have looked funny if John hadn't been able to guess what his friend had likely been about to say.

"Go ahead," he urged as he waited for the kettle to boil. "Say it! Ask me if making tea helped when my family refused to use my name and the correct pronouns. Deduce if I made tea when I felt like crying because my first boyfriend had just told me that he wanted to introduce his _girl_ to his parents." John slammed the mugs on the counter at these memories. It hurt to recall them although he felt like he somehow deserved to relive them after everything he had thrown at his friend tonight.

"I won't," Sherlock replied when John came back with two steaming mugs and gave one to him before he sat down in his own armchair. "I don't see any need to make you miserable."

John laughed humorlessly as he watched Sherlock take a sip of his tea. "You have every right to pay me back in kind. What I said... it wasn't just wrong it's also not how I feel about... asexuality. I was just..."

"Insecure and hurt because of the incident with your latest date. I'm aware of this but that doesn't mean that your insults hurt any less."

John almost spilled his tea as he gaped at Sherlock in shock. Not because his friend had correctly deduced the motivations behind his terrible outburst but because... Sherlock usually wasn't this open. John never got him to talk about his feelings and he suspected that sentiments didn't come easily to Sherlock... or he just didn't spare the time to analyze them. His openness and honesty - especially after what had happened - were rather surprising to say the least.

"I decided that we needed to talk openly if we want to save our friendship... provided that you regretted your words but I see that you do."

The words sent a mixture of relief and disappointment through John's body. Relief that their friendship was so important to Sherlock that he was willing to forgive John his transgression but disappointment that his friend obviously didn't see a chance for them to become more than friends.

"Yes, I regret them deeply. I didn't intend to hurt you, I just... lashed out." The apology sounded hollow even to John's ears. When he looked up though, a small smile flickered through Sherlock's eyes and he relaxed minutely. "I also didn't mean to imply that sex is a must for me in a relationship," John added hurriedly before he could change his mind and hide his feelings like a coward.

The light dimmed in his friend's eyes. "And I thought we had a honest conversation."

"We do!" John grabbed Sherlock's wrist as his friend made to get up. "I don't need to have sex with you if we were in a romantic relationship." And when Sherlock remained completely silent, John soldiered on. "You obviously like kissing and you... care for me and I... I love you, Sherlock." John hated how his voice cracked at the last words as he opened himself up for every cutting remark that was at his friend's disposal but he needed to make this right. "If I was only allowed to express my feelings for you... that would be enough."

Their gazes locked but John couldn't for the life of him figure out what was going on inside Sherlock's head. He couldn't even guess if his friend was moved or disgusted by John's love confession. Seconds ticked by and finally Sherlock shook off John's hand and stood up. "I need to think about it," he murmured quietly. "That's not a No but... it's rather late. Too late to make important decisions." With this, Sherlock vanished in the direction of his bedroom and John sagged back in his armchair.

He knew that he should be glad that Sherlock hadn't rejected him out of hand and that he still considered their friendship so important that he didn't want to ruin it with a rushed decision. Nevertheless a part of him couldn't help but wonder how differently this night would have gone if John hadn't ruined it for both of them. He certainly wouldn't sit in his armchair now - with a cooling cup of tea - and stare at Sherlock's empty chair. No they would probably be cuddled up together in John's bed and... such thoughts didn't help.

John sighed and carried his and Sherlock's mug into the kitchen. He paused a second when he heard the door to the bathroom close but then forced his feet to carry him back up to his room. It wouldn't help his case if he pressured Sherlock into an answer. So waiting for his friend to finish in the bathroom was out of the question. John climbed in his bed and drew the covers up to his nose. He was fairly certain that he would wait in vain for sleep to claim him as his mind started to wonder how long it would take Sherlock to come up with a reply to his proposal... and if it would be in his favor. Long hours passed slowly while John watched the shifting shadows on the ceiling and imagined every possible outcome. He fell asleep at sunrise, convinced that he had fucked up his chance to have Sherlock as more than his best friend.

OOO

What should he do?

A quiet sigh escaped Sherlock's lips as he watched the moving shadows on his ceiling from his lying position on the bed. He would like to pretend that it was rare that he was at a loss as to what to do but he would be a liar if he made such a claim. Actually he had been at his wit's end countless times especially in regard to his sexuality. A bitter smile pulled at Sherlock's lips as he recalled the memories that had left the greatest impression on him.

 _"Don't you have anyone you want to invite to your birthday, Darling?" Mummy smiled hopefully at him but Sherlock only shook his head and barely stopped himself from glaring at her. It would only take time away from his experiments if he alienated her and had to make up for his transgression, later._

 _"They are all idiots," Sherlock told the jar of honey and earned a sigh from his mother and a sympathetic chuckle from Mycroft. "You will meet more interesting people when you start university in a few months. You are advanced enough in your chosen subjects to join the higher semester and I'm sure that you will find a smart, young woman to spend your time with."_

 _"Or a young man," Mummy added and Sherlock felt more than saw how she frowned at her eldest son, for not including this possibility. "It doesn't matter who you bring home, Sherlock. We would just like to see you happy."_

 _Sherlock pressed his lips into a thin line to hold back the scathing remark that was on the tip of his tongue. He was happy when he could work on his experiments or build up his Mind Palace. Why should he spend his time with stupid people that didn't understand him and tried to hold him down with their petty views and expectations? Relationships were messy. Sherlock had learned that much at school. Your girlfriend or boyfriend wanted your attention all the time and they got stroppy and annoyed when you ignored them for too long. And then, there was the whole sex part. A shudder ran through Sherlock's body at the thought. He didn't understand why everyone was so obsessed with it. The pleasure they gained from it was explained by simple biochemical reactions. It was nothing extraordinary. Not to mention that Sherlock somehow doubted that it was a very satisfying experience when hormone driven seventeen and eighteen - year - olds were involved. He hadn't even really enjoyed it when he had needed to deal with his own erection in the morning. It hadn't been unpleasant per se but neither had Sherlock felt the urge to repeat the experience if it wasn't necessary._

 _"No matter their gender, I'm sure you will find someone out there for you," Mycroft continued the conversation after he had wolfed down three sandwiches and Sherlock rolled his eyes at his big brother. "Just trust me." Mycroft grinned his 'I-am-your-big-brother-and-know-what-I-am-talking-about' smile. "See it as an experiment to figure out what you like."_

 _Sherlock raised an eyebrow at that but didn't deem the words worth a comment although his thoughts were racing through his mind. Usually, he ignored his big brother but this time Mycroft might be right - although Sherlock wouldn't admit to it if his life depended on it. It didn't matter that he was annoyed at the notion that he should fall in love with someone - or at least have sex with them - but maybe Mycroft was right and Sherlock should treat it like an experiment. It might prove to him that he wasn't different from his peers in this regard at least, when he was already seen as a freak for his intelligence and interest in crimes and poisons._

It had started then.

Sherlock sighed heavily as he recalled how he had set the parameters for his experiment before he had gone to university. He had never felt sexual attraction to anyone but he had still forced himself to keep his eyes open for someone who... wasn't annoying. His choice had fallen on Nathalie who had had a wicked sense of humor and was brilliant at chemistry. She had also looked beautiful - from an objective point of view. They had become friends really fast during Sherlock's second semester at university and they might have stayed friends for life if his stupid experiment hadn't ruined everything. Sometimes, Sherlock still regretted how things had gone between them... and all because he had listened to Mycroft for once.

 _"I don't know if someone told you before but you are really, really handsome." Nathalie winked at Sherlock as she took in his naked body and he relaxed at her easy compliment and joined her on the bed. They weren't dating but they liked each other and when Sherlock had admitted that he had never slept with anyone before Nathalie had thought it a good idea to be his first. It was perfect for his experiment although Sherlock hadn't told her about it. Somehow it felt wrong to admit that he wasn't really interested in having sex with her but that he felt pressured to give it a go because everyone expected it of him._

 _"No need to be nervous." Nathalie smiled at him - she had noticed his flaccid penis - and then they kissed. It was nice... more than nice actually. Sherlock enjoyed the sensation of her lips on his. Warmth and contentment seeped through him as she climbed on top of him and pressed her body against his. It was comfortable to be so close to her. Grounding to have her weight settle down on top of him. He carded his fingers through her long, red hair and stroked along her spine with the tip of his fingers. Nathalie's skin was smooth and warm. Sherlock could have spend hours just kissing and touching her like this but of course it couldn't be. Nathalie noticed his erection much too soon - impossible not to in this position - and grinned at him before she got a condom, rolled it onto his penis and sat back in his lap._

 _"Ready?" She asked and Sherlock merely wanted to shake his head. He wanted to tell her that they should ignore his erection because it was only a biological reaction on his part. He wanted to ask her not to do anything about it and instead go back to kissing and cuddling. Nevertheless he felt himself nod and a few seconds later, Nathalie sank down on him. It felt... strange. Neither bad nor good. It was just a mixture of new sensations that stimulated his nerve endings and led to biochemical reactions._

 _Nathalie started to move on top of him and Sherlock didn't know what to do - what he was expected to do. He didn't like the feeling of added stimulation on his cock but it didn't appear to be a good time to tell his friend as much. In the end, he opted for kissing Nathalie. It was almost as nice as before but Sherlock didn't really want to continue for longer than necessary. Not when he didn't enjoy the sensation of being in Nathalie and he doubted that he would come tonight - especially since he didn't look forward to having an orgasm. Sherlock marked this part of his experiment as failed even while he tried to come up with a way to end this night without offending his friend._

He had even managed that much. Sherlock shook his head with a sad smile as he recalled how he had put his finger between their bodies and to Nathalie's clitoris. In his mind it was like any other experiment as he remembered Nathalie's surprised look at his actions and then the pure pleasure that had taken its place - anatomy books were good for a lot of things. She hadn't noticed that Sherlock hadn't come. His erection had flagged while she had still been riding the waves of her orgasm. He had made sure to dispose of the condom without allowing her a look at it and then... they had cuddled.

A fond smile passed Sherlock's features at the memory before it turned sad as he recalled Nathalie's devastated look when he had told her that they wouldn't repeat the experience. She had put on a brave face and suggested that he might be gay - she was an open minded woman - but their friendship hadn't been like before. The strain that this one night had put on it had never vanished and Sherlock had almost been glad when Nathalie had changed universities. Almost only because... he had lost his only friend over something as stupid as sex. And he still hadn't admitted to himself back then that sex just wasn't for him, Sherlock thought bitterly as he recalled the other parts of his experiment.

 _"Oh God, you are so tight," the man - Nico or Niles, Sherlock wasn't sure - groaned as he pushed his cock into Sherlock's arse. It didn't hurt per se. There was a stretch and the weird feeling of fullness but nothing that Sherlock would consider painful. It was even less uncomfortable than receiving a hand - or blowjob. He certainly preferred a dick in his arse to a dick in his mouth. Sherlock stopped himself from recalling this experiment before he could get violently sick._

 _This time, he wasn't expected to touch the genitals of someone in a sexual manner or suffer through the sexual touches of someone else. Yes, he had a cock up his arse, but he wasn't expected to do anything besides allowing this guy to fuck him and this was fine... until the man thought it appropriate to aim for Sherlock's prostate with his thrusts. Nerve endings fired signals through his body and Sherlock experienced the strange sensation of getting closer to orgasm and wanting to stop it at the same time. Of course, there was no stopping it and Sherlock led out a strangled cry - it wasn't a sob - as he came at the unwanted stimulation. His distress went unnoticed as the man groaned with lust and followed him after a few more thrusts._

This night had brought the realisation to Sherlock that he didn't enjoy sex at all - in any form. After finally admitting the truth to himself, it hadn't taken him long to analyze what he would enjoy with a partner and what was out of the question. Sadly, what he had to offer was never enough for anyone and this brought him back to the question at hand: Would it be enough for John? His friend had assured him that he didn't require sex to have a relationship with Sherlock but how could he trust his words after what had transpired between them, only hours ago? It was very likely that John merely felt guilty about how he had reacted to Sherlock's coming out and wanted to make up for his hurtful words.

Sherlock sighed into the empty room. He knew why John had been so spiteful and he also believed his friend when he said that he loved him but... was it enough? John enjoyed sex especially with people he cared about and Sherlock wouldn't be able to provide this important part for him if they were to start a relationship. At least not in the way John was used to.

If Sherlock had gotten to the point at which he explained to his potential partner what he enjoyed or was comfortable with and what was completely out of the question, he would have been able to judge John's feelings on the subject. Not that his judgment was flawless - as had been proven to Sherlock numerous times. As it was though, Sherlock didn't have enough data to make a decision... and he wasn't sure if it was wise to heed Mycroft's advice - again.

 _Sherlock had walked for less than fifteen minutes when a black car pulled up next to him. It was neither unexpected nor welcome. Of course, Mycroft had his cameras - his ever watchful eyes - trained on the flat at Baker Street. ready to interfere whenever he believed that Sherlock was out of his depth and he could play the role he was best versed in: Meddling, older brother._

 _Sherlock directed his best glare at the blackened car windows and kept on walking. The car stayed at his side and Sherlock knew that he couldn't escape his brother this time. If he had wanted to avoid Mycroft he would have needed to plan his route very carefully after leaving the flat in such a distraught state. He hadn't. And now, on top of everything that had already happened this evening, Sherlock would be forced to suffer through a conversation with his brother. Lovely. No need then to delay the inevitable. Sherlock stopped abruptly and the car did as well. With a deadly glare, Sherlock opened the back door and slipped onto the bench._

 _"Good evening, brother mine," Mycroft drawled from his position opposite Sherlock. He was clad in a three piece suit like always - Sherlock sometimes suspected he even slept in one - and balanced a laptop on his knees as he gave his brother the once over. Sherlock snorted in reply to his brother's greeting and crossed his arms over his chest. He knew what Mycroft saw and what he could deduce from it. No need for Sherlock to say anything._

 _"But you see, Sherlock, I can deduce almost your whole evening - including your argument with John - but it would be helpful of you to fill me into the details."_

 _"And why would I do that?" Sherlock glanced out of the window and noted to his relief that the car was merely driving through London in circles. No need to worry about ending up at Mycroft's home at least._

 _"You see," his brother closed the laptop and put it aside, "that I need to know how it was possible for John to rile you up to such an extent that you are on the brink of a relapse."_

 _"Why would you assume that John had anything to do with it? Maybe I'm just bored and tired of pretending to be a good, little boy." Sherlock didn't try to deny Mycroft's other deduction. It would be useless as his brother knew him well enough to see the signs of... temptation when they appeared. And yes, Sherlock was tempted. Tempted to numb the pain in his chest with a quick injection. Tempted to sink into the blissful oblivion only his drug of choice could bring. It would be so much easier than dealing with his emotions - with John's rejection. Still that didn't mean that he was going to confide in his elder brother as if he were twelve years all over again._

 _"We both know that only the good Doctor is dear enough to you to hurt your feelings to such an extent that you would fall back on your old habits. Save us some time, Sherlock and tell me."_

 _"You even managed not to sneer when you said_ feelings _," Sherlock drawled but accepted the package of cigarettes and the lighter that Mycroft pulled out of his waistcoat nonetheless. "Did you take a course or something?"_

 _The first drag from the cigarette burned in his lungs and Sherlock cherished it as he smoked the cigarette down to the filter and flipped it onto the floor of the car. Mycroft didn't even raise an eyebrow at his behavior - to Sherlock's chagrin. Instead he took a cigarette from the package himself and lit it just as Sherlock was about to take a second one. The both smoked in silence for some time until Sherlock couldn't stand it any longer. "Is this your version of a nice family outing? Driving through the city by night and smoking cigarettes with your brother?"_

 _"No," Mycroft retrieved an ashtray from under his seat and put his cigarette out. "Actually I have international business to tend to but you are higher up on my priority list than the elections in... Well, it doesn't matter."_

 _"I'm touched," Sherlock snarled and ignored the small part of him that was indeed - just a tiny little bit - touched by his brother's concern for him. He wouldn't give Mycroft the satisfaction of breaking down in front of him and crying on his shoulder. No, Sherlock didn't know what exactly he was supposed to do about the whole mess but he certainly wasn't going to embarrass himself in front of his brother. The last time he had cried in Mycroft's arms had been over two decades ago - when Redbeard had died - and Sherlock wasn't going to repeat the experience tonight._

 _"Let's play a game." Mycroft's voice interrupted Sherlock's thoughts and he frowned at his older brother. "What kind of game?"_

 _"Your favorite game, of course. I deduce what happened this evening and if I'm right you have to tell me how such a situation could arise in the first place."_

 _For a second, Sherlock was tempted to demand the car to be pulled over to get away from his brother but he didn't. Instead, he nodded his consent to Mycroft and leaned back in the comfortable leather seats. Of course, Sherlock only wanted Mycroft to deduce him so that his brother finally left him in peace. It had absolutely nothing to do with wanting his brother's input or - God forbid - his sympathy._

 _"John had a date this evening which didn't end well."_

 _"You know this from the CCTV footage. That's not very impressive Mycroft."_

 _"I watched the video. That's not cheating, that's being observant." Sherlock met Mycroft's smug smile with a glare and his brother continued. "Obviously you did something to rile the good Doctor up. The light upstairs was switched on a few minutes after he got home and he could be seen pacing in his room before the light was turned off once more."_

 _"Peeper!"_

 _Mycroft brushed Sherlock's accusation aside with a shrug. "It's part of my job. No matter though, back to the topic at hand. You went up to him three hours after your first argument where you settled your differences... and then started a new argument."_

 _"I should check the flat for cameras," Sherlock murmured and hoped that it would distract his brother long enough to avoid the upcoming conversation. No such luck._

 _"There is no need for this as you well know. There aren't any cameras in either of your bedrooms - and none in the whole flat after your last sweep. It was a simple enough deduction."_

 _"Then, you can also tell me what John did that_ riled me up _as you put it so eloquently." It was clearly a challenge and Sherlock didn't like how Mycroft's eyes lit up at it. "Nothing easier than that. You came out to him as asexual - although I don't know why you thought it a wise idea after an argument - and he reacted badly to the news." Something dark flickered in the cold depths of his brother's eyes._

 _Sherlock's lips curled up into a bitter smile. "No need to judge John for his prejudices. You aren't better in this regard."_

 _This shut Mycroft up - Sherlock made a note in his Mind Palace. He had long enough to smoke a couple more cigarette before his brother found his voice once more. "I never meant to make you feel bad about your sexuality and if I did," Mycroft bit down on his bottom lip and Sherlock watched in fascination as a light blush crept into his cheeks. "I apologize for it."_

 _"I think I have to notify the Queen that the British Government has been replaced by an alien." Sherlock glanced at his brother in astonishment and then shook his head slowly. He couldn't believe that his brother had just apologized for all his biting remarks about Sherlock's sexuality. It shouldn't be enough to make Sherlock forgive him but somehow... it was. For Mycroft to apologize for anything - at all - was almost unheard of and Sherlock knew that it was their equivalent of a prostration and a tearful hug._

 _"I just don't understand why Doctor Watson reacted so badly to your coming out when he always appeared to be such an open minded man."_

 _Sherlock accepted the change in topic with a sigh and a shrug. "It might have something to do with the conversation we had about his gender identity first and then about why his date went wrong."_

 _Mycroft frowned in confusion and if Sherlock hadn't felt so drained already he would have delighted in storing this expression away in his Mind Palace. As it was, he just wanted to go home and hide in his room - preferably forever._

 _"You discussed his gender identity because your first argument came up... which had something to do with his gender identity. You said something triggering... Why would you do that in the first place?"_

 _"Because," Sherlock snapped, "until four hours ago I didn't have the first clue that John was transgender."_

 _This silenced Mycroft for the length of four cigarettes and when his brother had recovered from his shock even Sherlock felt calm enough to entertain a civil conversation with his brother - at least for ten minutes._

It should be easy to decide if listening to Mycroft's advice would result in the desired outcome but... it wasn't. Sherlock sighed as he watched the moving shadows on the ceiling. Usually he took every risk - no matter how high - as long as there was the smallest chance for success but this time... he would like to have a guarantee. A guarantee that his decision wouldn't ruin his friendship with John. A guarantee that it wasn't too late to fix whatever had been broken in the last few hours and that they could still go back to their first kiss. A guarantee that everything wouldn't go to hell and Sherlock wouldn't be left alone once more. Yes, a guarantee would be nice but Sherlock was well aware that such a thing didn't exist. Not when it came to John Watson and - God, did he dare saying it - feelings. Both complete unpredictable variables and Sherlock still needed to find a solution to the calculation.

The first rays of daylight seeped through the curtains of his bedroom and brought the sounds of rush hour traffic with them when Sherlock finally decided on a course of action and allowed his exhausted mind a few minutes of rest.

OOO

John didn't want to get up. His first impulse upon waking up was to bury himself under the covers and remain hidden in his room for the rest of the day. It would be easier than facing Sherlock. At least, as long as John remained ignorant of his friend's decision in regards to their relationship he could entertain the fantasy that everything would go well. That Sherlock would give them a chance and... that John wouldn't ruin it in the end.

"Fuck that," John muttered to himself and stumbled out of his bed and through the room to his wardrobe. He hadn't made it to this point in his life by hiding from problems. If he had hid from them... well it was a moot point as John doubted that he would still be alive today if he hadn't found the courage to live as the man he was.

John grabbed a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt from his wardrobe and then frowned as he noticed the fresh stubble on his face. Usually he wouldn't shave this morning - no work, no date - as he had only shaved last night before he had gone out but...

John found himself in front of the bathroom mirror with shaving foam on his face faster than he had thought possible. Some might call it foolish but if Sherlock - against all hope - decided that he wanted John in his life as more than a friend then John didn't want to ruin a potential kiss with stubble. Not that he knew if Sherlock even wanted to exchange kisses but better safe than sorry. John had had enough dates - back in his days at med school - who had complaint about his stubbly cheeks and their raw kissed lips. He didn't want to add Sherlock to this list. Especially not when he felt more comfortable with a clean shaven face himself by now. He didn't need to grow out a beard anymore to feel secure in his manliness and he also didn't fear being taken for a woman without stubble on his face. Which was a good thing as John had been told numerous times that it looked like sauerkraut was sprouting from his face when he had sported a beard.

Shaking his head at these pointless thoughts John finally left the bathroom and went into the kitchen. There was no sign that Sherlock had been in here after last night and John sighed quietly. He wasn't even sure if he felt disappointed or relieved at the knowledge that his friend wasn't up and about just yet. The suspense might very well kill him but at least John could enjoy a hot cup of tea before his world was crushed by Sherlock because...

No, John smiled sadly as he turned the kettle on. There wasn't much of a chance left that Sherlock would risk a relationship with him. Not after last night. Not after...

"If you could make some eggs and bacon with toast that would be marvelous."

John knocked his hand against the cupboard as he spun around to face his friend. "Dear God, you look terrible." The words slipped from John's tongue before he got the chance to clamp his mouth shut. _"Way to go, Watson. Better keep insulting your friend so that he doesn't even think of getting involved with you!"_

"Thanks for the information. I wouldn't have come to the conclusion myself." An askew grin graced Sherlock's lips as he all but collapsed onto one of the kitchen chairs. "Obviously even I can't go three days with only one hour of sleep anymore."

"One hour," John echoed in disbelief as he retrieved the necessary items for the breakfast ordered. "But you went to bed at around... Oh!" Of course Sherlock hadn't gone straight to sleep just like John hadn't been able to find rest for hours. His friend had probably spent hour after hour analyzing his interactions with John and making a decision based on the data he had gathered about his friend.

"I'm sorry that you couldn`t sleep just because..."

"Stop it!" John's head snapped up at the harsh tone and he met Sherlock's bloodshot but sharp eyes. "Stop apologizing for something you aren't responsible for."

John frowned at this as he heated the oil in the pan and added the bacon to it. "But somehow it's my fault. If I hadn't been such an idiot and we hadn't had this argument then you could have slept."

"You don't know that." Sherlock's shoulders sagged as he breathed out a quiet sigh and suddenly he looked as tired as he probably was. There was a grayish tint to his cheeks and his curls were in knots. "I often can't sleep because my mind can't find rest. Nonetheless that's not the point. I want this circle of apologies to stop. You forgave me for my thoughtless words after your date and I forgive you for your anger fueled insults and that's it."

John almost dropped the eggs on the floor as Sherlock's final words hit him like a wipe. _"That's it!"_ Of course how could he have hoped for something else? Something more? He should be glad that Sherlock had forgiven him at all and that their friendship hadn't been destroyed. Still John was... No, not disappointed. That was too mild a word for the crushing, burning feeling in his chest at the knowledge that he would never have _more_ with Sherlock. They would never wake up in the same bed together. There wouldn't be cuddles on the couch while enjoying a Doctor Who marathon. They might not even grow old together. Maybe they would become estranged or Sherlock would find someone who wasn't a total jerk and ask John to move out and...

"I would like eggs for breakfast not ashes." The amused reminder came just in time for John to save most of their breakfast and transfer it to the table. He watched as Sherlock tucked into his meal with gusto. Usually he would enjoy such a rare occurrence but John couldn't even bring himself to smile this time. It was great that Sherlock gave in to his body's needs but it was a small pleasure when John considered what he had just lost.

"Are you finished?" John blinked down at his half eaten plate. He didn't think he could stomach another forkful of egg without being sick all over the kitchen table. Not when his intestines felt like they were tied into the Gordian Knot. Instead of voicing any of these thoughts John merely pushed his plate away from him. "Good then we can finally talk."

"Talk?" John frowned at his friend. He didn't know what they still needed to talk about. Not after Sherlock had decided against giving their relationship a go. Or maybe his friend had already moved on to a different topic and they would discuss the storage of new human body parts in the fridge.

"Yes I think we should be on the same page if we want to give it a try," Sherlock spoke to the table.

"Give what a try?" John was genuinely confused by now and it didn't help matters when Sherlock flinched at his casual question.

"This," his friend gestured at them both. "Us. Together. I thought you wanted... Never mind." Sherlock pushed his chair back and stood up. "If you have made up your mind and decided that it's not worth..."

"Stop. Just stop for a second." John held up his hand to his friend who looked ready to bolt from the room. It couldn't be, could it? Two people shouldn't be able to misunderstand each other so completely and yet here they were. "So you say... you want to give a relationship - a romantic relationship - with me a chance?" John prayed that his voice hadn't come out as cracked and hopeful as it had sounded to his own ears.

"Yes."

Just this one word and John could have wept with relief at hearing it. It was a good thing that he was already sitting down otherwise his knees would have given out at this unforeseen revelation.

"Good. That's good... great in fact." John's smile was met with a tentative one from Sherlock. It was only then that John realised that he wasn't the only one who was nervous in the room and somehow this knowledge calmed him considerably.

"Tea?" He offered ready for any and every conversation Sherlock intended to have with him.

"Yes, please."

OOO

Sherlock clenched his hands around the mug until he was certain that the ceramic would crack. It would be a welcome distraction from the conversation they were about to have but... No, Sherlock wanted to get it over with in order to finally know if he had made the right decision.

It hadn't been easy to decide to give a romantic relationship with John a second chance. Not because Sherlock didn't trust his friend. He had put his life too often into his friend's hands to doubt that he was safe with John. At least his life was safe with him. It was his heart - and yes, Sherlock admitted that he had one - that he was worried about. John wouldn't hurt him intentionally - not after last night - but that didn't mean that it couldn't happen at all. There was the very likely possibility that the kind of relationship Sherlock had to offer wasn't right for John and that his friend would only notice so later on. They would break up and it was doubtful that their friendship would survive such a blow. Still as Mycroft had pointed out it would be better than the alternative. Better than both of them continuing their lives like nothing had happened but always wondering _"what if...?"_ This could destroy them just as well and if one option included more intimacy between John and him then Sherlock was set on choosing this path. No matter if it had the potential to cause deeper wounds in the end. Still John had a say in this as well.

Sherlock glanced at his quiet but expectant friend and decided that now was as good a time as any to start this conversation. He put his mug on the small table next to his armchair, took a deep breath and started to talk before his courage abandoned him.

"I like to kiss - with and without tongue - and to hug. From time to time I also enjoy to... cuddle," Sherlock ignored the way his face heated at the ridiculous sounding word. "And I certainly wouldn't mind indulging in all the above while we are both naked but" Sherlock prepared himself for the disappointment that was soon to be written all over John's face. "I don't want to have sex with you. Any kind of sex. I won't touch you sexually and I don't want to be touched in such a way either. I don't mind if you jerk off while we are in bed together - or in any other place you prefer - but I won't participate in any way."

It was out. Finally. All of his conditions and limitations were out in the open for John to judge. Sherlock slumped in his armchair but withstood the impulse to avert his gaze when he felt John's eyes on him. It took some courage but Sherlock forced himself to look at John and to _observe._ The first thing that Sherlock noted was the complete absence of disappointment. Instead there was curiosity, relief and not a small amount of fondness written all over his friend's face. By far the most positive reaction Sherlock had ever gotten to his little speech - which he had perfected over the years - but he still didn't allow the hope in his chest to bloom.

"The sexual part is non-negotiable. I could be convinced to hold hands with you - although not when I work on a case - but you won't convince me to indulge in any sexual activities with you."

John furrowed his brow and Sherlock's heart sank. Of course this wouldn't be enough for John. It had never been enough for anyone. Kisses, hugs and cuddles were considered nice but sex was a _must-have_ for most people and Sherlock couldn't contribute this essential part to a relationship. Theoretically he could perform but... the costs were much too high. Sherlock didn't see why he should feel uncomfortable and suffer through acts he barely tolerated only because his partner wanted it. He wouldn't demand such services from his partner either. At least Sherlock had learned that John wasn't different in this regard right away before he had gotten involved even more deeply than he already was.

He made to get up - unsure of where to go but aware that he needed a quiet place to lick his wounds - when John's voice stopped him in his tracks. "Why would I ever try to coax you into having sex with me when you stated that you don't want it?" There was disbelief and no small amount of anger in his friend's tone. "The thought of jerking off while you are in the same room as I is already damn sexy so I wouldn't ask for anything else that you don't want to give. Which makes me how you got the idea that I would ask for more than you are willing to give. Who the fuck did try to force you into having sex with them?!"

Sherlock blinked. Stunned. John was angry on his behalf. Not even Mycroft had raised an eyebrow when he had figured out that his brother had been upset about _consensual_ sex almost a decade ago. No matter that Sherlock hadn't consented because he had _wanted_ to have sex. It was rather...

"He didn't force me per se. He... I guess you can say he guilt-tripped me." If possible John's eyes grew even darker at the admission and for a second Sherlock feared that his friend's temper would get the better of him. The moment passed and John's eyes cleared up as he reigned his temper in. "I promise that I won't do this to you. Never. I will probably make mistakes and so will you and there will be fights - as usual - but I will never bribe you into giving me something you aren't comfortable with. That's it if you still want me."

Sherlock felt the corners of his lips turn up in what could only be described as a ridiculously wide smile but he didn't care as an answering one bloomed on John's face. "Of course I want you. I have always wanted you."

Sherlock wasn't sure who moved first but suddenly they were hugging in the middle of their living-room and it came close to perfect when John's lips found Sherlock's for the sweetest kiss he had ever experienced.

"Hot chocolate with biscuits and a Doctor Who marathon?" John murmured against his lips and Sherlock replied with another kiss before he slung his arms around John and held onto his own personal miracle with all he had. There was still so much that could go wrong but Sherlock was sure that he would never regret his decision. Not for as long as he was allowed to hold John in his arms.


End file.
